Turning the Pages
by Afton Walker
Summary: If you want a happy ending, it all depends on where you stop telling your story. For Shaun and Rebecca, their story is just beginning. Contains elements from Initiates. Rated T until it becomes otherwise.


_"Whatever's in that temple is just another chapter in this endless story; and it'll be your job, Dad - and Mom's and Shaun's and Rebecca's - to keep turning the pages."_

_- Desmond Miles (voice memo recorded December 20, 2012)_

**Prologue:**

**Casualties of War**

**Friday, December 21, 2012**

**Somewhere in Upstate New York**

Dawn broke as Shaun pulled into an abandoned rest stop off the highway, his breathing labored as he put the van in park and turned off the ignition. He stared wearily at the sky overhead, the remnants of the aurora borealis fading as it gave way to blue atop the towering pine trees. He then cast a downtrodden glance at Rebecca, her head leaned against the passenger window and her arms wrapped tightly across her body, before turning his attention to William behind her, whose snoring had kept him awake enough to drive the three of them out of harm's way.

Truthfully, he'd rather have resumed the heated argument they'd had hours before, if not to keep him sane. He'd been trying to convince William to go back for Desmond's body, knowing full well that if they didn't, Abstergo would come and claim it for themselves. William, however, also knew that there was nothing more they could do but move forward. Shaun had reluctantly given in, his adrenaline the only thing keeping him focused for the long drive ahead until William eventually fell asleep, his faint sniffling painfully reaching Shaun's ears. Rebecca, meanwhile, had been silent ever since they'd grabbed their stuff and gotten the hell outta Dodge, and Shaun had ultimately decided to leave her be and let her collect her thoughts.

With a sigh, he opened the driver's side door and stepped outside, quickly and quietly closing it behind him, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. He leaned back against the door and gazed upward once more, the bright cobalt blue and William's muffled snoring suddenly becoming too much for him to handle. He closed his eyes shut and pursed his lips as hot tears slowly glided down his cheeks, a silent sob lodged in his throat.

"Bloody hell," he managed to choke out, silently cursing himself for allowing his emotions to take over. But after all he'd been through, he didn't care anymore.

"Oh, stop your bawling, you sodding toddler," scolded a voice in the back of his head.

"Shut up," Shaun murmured. "Mind your own business."

"Now we both know that's impossible, seeing as how I'm in your head and all," the voice argued.

"I don't care!" Shaun spat back. "So just shut up and leave me alone!"

"Don't tell me you're starting to have _feelings _about all this," the voice retaliated. "You're an Assassin, for Christ's sake! A killer! What's one more death gonna matter?"

"Every death is a tragedy," Shaun argued. "Except to you, apparently," he said bitterly.

"Excuse me?" a stern voice implied.

Shaun broke out of his reverie and glanced over at William, who was at the end of the truck, glaring at him with weary red eyes that now matched Shaun's. He nonchalantly wiped his face with his sleeve and said, "I wasn't talking to you, so mind your own business, Bill."

"Don't start with me, Shaun," William warned. "I am not in the mood to deal with your bullshit right now."

"Oh, _my_ bullshit?" Shaun challenged. "Last time I checked, we're all pretty much screwed! Sure, the world is saved, but soon everything will be like it was before and we'll go back to living like nomads in a goddamn war zone!"

"Stop this right now!" William threatened.

"Or what? You'll put me in time out?" Shaun taunted. Soon William trudged over to him, his fists clenched so that the whites of his knuckles showed, while Shaun continued, "You know what? I take that back; I was talking about you, you heartless bas-" Before he could finish, he found himself shoved against the truck, the front of his sweater gripped in William's hands as he looked at Shaun with pent-up rage and growled, "Don't. You. Ever. Call me that!"

"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" Shaun spat back. "I mean, what kind of heartless bastard just leaves his own son to die? Maybe if you'd been more of a father than some high-and-mighty prick, he wouldn't have been so damn bitter for most of his life, and he might even still be here! Lucy and Clay, too, for that matter!" Without warning, William's fist met Shaun's mouth in an uppercut that sent his head slamming into the truck. He tasted blood as it blossomed from his lips and slowly seeped into his mouth and onto his tongue.

"What's going on?" Rebecca asked, a panicked look on her face. William ignored her completely as he kept glaring at Shaun, hands at his sides. After a measurable silence, he finally said, "Let me ask you something, Shaun: After all these years, do you think I enjoy killing people for a living? Do you think I like watching those I care about die, especially when I know full well that I could've prevented it in the first place?" For a few minutes, he stood quietly, as though he were expecting Shaun to answer, until he replied, "Well I don't. And I'm pretty damn sure you don't either. But this is our life now, just as it was before. We do what we have to in order to survive."

Again he waited for Shaun to answer, but he didn't. He just looked away as William sighed heavily and walked back toward the back of the truck, its bed dipping up and down as he climbed in and closed the doors behind him. Shaun continued to stare at the ground until he heard Rebecca speak, her voice barely above a whisper, "Shaun...you okay? Your lip..." He lightly touched his mouth and glanced down as the blood smeared across his fingers like paint.

Without looking at her, he walked to the rundown restroom and made his way to the sink, rusted but functional. As he tested the knobs, waiting until the water finally came out in a small stream, he heard a slight tap on the door, followed by a meek "Shaun?"

"I'm fine," he replied quietly.

"But-"

"I said I'm fine," he said again louder, the tone in his voice causing Rebecca to wince on the other side. At the moment, though, his focus was on his reflection in the cracked and dirty mirror in front of him.

* * *

**(spoiler until chapter is finished)**

From: D. Miles

To: S. Hastings, R. Crane

Date: 20 Dec 2012, 10:40 pm

Subj: Goodbye

_Hey, Shaun and Rebecca._

_Sorry it took longer for me to write this for you guys; I figured you had enough to deal with, regarding my dad and everything._

_Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know I wasn't the easiest person to deal with, especially with you, Shaun. I could tell when we first met that you hated my guts, mostly because you resented me for throwing away my potential and taking my abilities for granted. And I don't blame you._

_But as time went on, I came to realize that you also acted the way you did because you'd been through so much for so long, you and Becca both; all the pain, the suffering, the heartache, the sacrifices. And I know that I'll never understand all those things the same way you did. But I will understand if you resent me for what I did to Lucy. It still haunts me, and it always will, even after I'm gone._

_Before you say anything, just know that I'm not saying that because I've given up. I'm only putting the future into perspective, and I can't help but feel that it'll be something none of us want to consider. But if it does come to that, and I don't make it out alive, don't lose sight of what you're fighting for. Keep fighting, for the world, for freedom, for each other. Live. Be free. And be happy. It's more than I've ever done in my whole life._

_Goodbye._


End file.
